King of the Whytes
by Extraho
Summary: On his way back to the Wall, Jon is captured by the fearsome King of the Whytes. As the King scents his blood, the fingers about to rip out his throat pauses. Jon learns that being a Stark is far more than just a name. Being a Tygarian is far more than an affection for dragons.  Jon/King the Whytes dub/con mild slash
1. Chapter 1

King of the Whytes

Summary; On his way back to the Wall, Jon is captured by the fearsome King of the Whytes. As the King scents his blood, the fingers about to rip out his throat pauses. Jon learns that being a Stark is far more than just a name. Being a Tygarian is far more than an affection for dragons.

Jon/King the Whytes dub/con Jon/(Robb?)

Prologue

Jon ran. He'd never ran like he ran now in his life. What a horrible week.

First he'd been captured by Wildlings. Once he'd been brought to the king north of the Wall, it had been quite a pleasant stay.

No one would say that the Starks were not of true northern blood. It turned out Ygritte was the kings daughter. While the King was sure to point out the Crows had nought to do in his lands to start with, he thanked him for sparing his only daughter. Women were rarely strong enough to survive birthing in the cold. If the mother died, the child died. Safe to say, the women, regardless if they were the daughter of kings or not, were precious.

He had been let go, and brought within sights of the Wall. Which had put him in this situation. He had no fire, so he could not fight. His sword, Longclaw was taken as bounty- The king had liked the poetry of it: A Stark with a sword with a wolf carving. How fitting.

His lungs were burning. His legs were aching and the Whytes weren't even running to keep up with him; they just, somehow, were right there.

"Ah-" he yelled as a freezing hand grabbed him by his neck and hoisted him in the air.

The fear he felt was indescribable. The man. The thing. He looked unlike any other Whyte. He has on a massive horse, larger than any Jon had ever seen. A massive, frozen, rotting horse. The man himself was bare chested, with blue ink markings on his skin. His hair was white and his eyes could easily have been melted silver. But all of this Jon barely noticed; all he could look at was the torn and frozen skin of the arm that was holding him in the air so effortlessly.

He kicked franticly, trying to drag some air into his burning lungs.

This was how it was going to end; at the hand of an ice man, north of the Wall, no more than three seasons old.

He could feel his heart-beat slowing in his chest, and his vision blurring around the edges.

When he came to, it was to the sight of a small ice cave. Of ice grave, it would seem. It was not very big.

He clenched his eys tightly shut and tried to will the cold away. He shifted and found that the heavy furs covering him were not his clothes, but freshly killed animals.

"I though..." a heavy rasping voice came from his side, "That you would sleep longer."

Suddennly Jon was wide awake. He spran up, only to be restrained by an arm impossibly strong, so white it was almost blue. Shaking, he dared to lift his eyes to the face of the ice man.

The man smiled, "Ah... a brave one. Tell me child, how long have I been trapped in this frozen hell?"

Jon didn't recognize his voice when it came out in a shaky stutter, "A- a thousand years..."

"Another thousand years... and the Stark still roam the North."

"I- I'm not a Stark," he corrected automatically, "I'm a bastard... of Lord Stark."

The silver eyes rested heavy on him, "Yet the blood runs true. The Dragon's blood. If a Stark was your sire, who was your bearer?"

"I, I don't know. My mother died when I was born." Jon couldn't believe he was still talking to this creature. He couldn't believe this creature had not yet killed him.

"I do not intend to kill you, child," the ice man released his heavy grip and moved away. His limbs seemed weary and he moved slowly. "Listen closely. I do not have much time."

Jon nodded numbly. What choice did he have? He was naked, north of the Wall. If he was not killed, he would surely die of the cold.

"I am Rowan Tygarion, the first of my name. I was the head of the House of Dragons fifteen hundred years ago. The hand that ruled the land. My brother wished the crown, and cursed me to this wasteland and built that wall, before I could pass on the Gift of the Dragon Lord to my heir. So I became this."

"This?"

"King of the Whytes, I have been called. The Dragon blood runs true in you, child, and I will pass my legacy, the Iron Throne, if it still exsists, to you-"

Coldness spread in his belly; would he become... that?

"- so that I can rest, and the dead of this land can rest."

"I... I'm sworn to the Night's Watch I can't, I ... I'll become like you?"

A terrifying grin spread on the degenerating face. "You wish to live beyond your mortal life in this wasteland?"

"N-no."

"Then I will give you this, your birthright. And I will die, my far too delayed death."

Jon was shaking too much to speak.

Jon scooted back a little as the King of the Whytes, the man who said he had dragon's blood, the man who said he was his ancestor, advanced upon him.

A icy and bony hand grabbed his hip so tightly it made him cry out in pain. Jon stared at the hand as it slowly flushed pink. As the hand turned pink, an unnatural heat spread in his body. Fire burned from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers.

Rowan threw away the dead animals on top of him and grabbed him with his other hand. Jon's breath hitched as the icy flech thouched his own feverish skin. Again, the hand flushed. Slowly, it grew up his arm; the skin darkened, and the ink became clearer.

His body trembled in pain. Or pleasure. He wasn't sure. It was so intense his nerves could not tell the difference. A part of him understood what was happening and fought with all his might, but his body would not obey.

The King of the Whytes laid between his thighs, his skin changing and the ice melting where they touched.

It was slow. Tortorously slow. Jon felt like he wasn't even in his body as his leg was lifted to lie around the waist of the otherworldly king.

His lips lips parted in a silent scream as he felt ice sliding into his body.

Then came the fire.

When Jon came to for the second time, it was to the feeling of being cocooned in warmth and strong arms wrapped around him. The body that was laying tightly against his back was naked. He could feel his spent manhood against the small of his back. His very sore back.

And the body was hot. Not just warm, but hot. Glancing down, he saw the arms wrapped around his waist was strong with golden skin streched over the wiry muscles.

He gasped quietly as the arms pulled him tighter to the broad chest. "Easy, child," he soft baritone mumbled.

The face that met him was so unlike what he had seen when he reached bliss that he could hardly believe it was the same creature. His hair was still white, but gold skin streched over strong and chiselled features.

He looked like a man. A lord. A King.

A kiss was dropped on his shoulder as he pulled away. "You need to dress," he said and handed him clothes. Jon could do nothing but stare at the manhood that had brought him to the point of shattering to a thousand pieces, and put him back together again. His eyes drifted lower; he frowned as he saw the King's feet slowly loosing their healthy colour.

Jon grabbed the clothes and pulled them on. They were not his own, but they fit like they had been made for him. "What happened to your markings?"

"They are your markings now," Rowan said. "Hurry, I am falling back into the ice."

Jon swung the cape over his shoulders. Rowan graspen the broach and fastened it for him.

His hands were turning blue. Gritting his jaw, the ancient king pulled the ring off his finger and slid it onto Jon's middle finger on his left hand and looked him deep in the eyes. "Repeat after me, child; By the blood that runs thought my veins, I promise myself to you, to cherish, to love and protect you. For our children and our heirs, I promise my love, loyalty and fire. For my Elder husband I promise my love, loyalty and fire as I one day will my Mate."

Jon repeated the words, feeling enchanted by Rowans silver eyes.

"Love, loyalty and fire," Rowan repeated.

"Love, loyalty and fire," Jon echoed, feeling the words warm his soul.

"And to out kingdom; You return with your shield, or on it."

"With your shield, or on it." Jon repeated.

Rowan nodded, satisfied. He leaned down a pressed a chaste kiss on Jon's lips. "Remember these words." The frost started spreading up his chest. "Your weapons," he said, his voice turning raspy again.

"The King north of the Wall has my sword..." Jon said. A feeling of dread spread in his gut as the once beautiful man froze before him. Only his chest as his face were still in their natural state.

"These are your weapons," he said and handed him a large bundle of leather. "Now listen," he ordered harshly. "Cut my head off, separarete my body by each limb and burn me."

"But the whytes -"

"Will not touch you. You will never be able to lay them to rest, for they were made by me, but you are their king now. If they don't recognise your blood, they'll recognise our matrimony. For you to acend your power, you must kill me. Once I am dead, you will know what to do."

Jon told himself that the tearing pain in his chest was unfounded. He unwound the leather and pulled out two short swords. They were sleek and elegant, unlike anything he'd ever seen. A bow with blades on the edges, daggers and a broadsword.

"Made from Dragon's bones, in dragon blood, in dragon fire." Rowan spoke and kneeled.

Jon tried to remind himself that this was the man who had woken the dead, who killed his comrades. But all he saw was the man who bore his body into adulthood.

He was scared, and confused, but one thing was clear in his mind; he might be a bastard, but he was a Stark, a Tygarion, if Rowan was right, and his blood ran as true as any true born heir.

"I will remember you," he said, his voice breaking.

"I will always be by your side," Rowan replied.

As the ice crept into his eyes, and consumed him once more, Jon let the swords fall, slicing neatly though the blue neck. The head rolled and the body fell to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

I have, once again replaced the prologue. If you're interested, the changes are only from after the sex~ for the future, dont worry ,I wont rob you of the good stuff :P

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Chapter 1

Jon's breath was heaving as he piled frozen earth on top of the ashes remaining of the king. He had done as he had been told: the body was separated at each limb, burnt and buried. He was surprised he even managed to cut into the ground at all, given it was white with frost.

The fifteen fires had burned for two days. He had brought out the large fur they had slept on and slept in the circle of the small pyres. The fur was still heavy with the scent of their coupling, but Jon's sleep was dreamless and restless. His body still ached and his heart ached. If he ever told anyone of this, he would never admit the tears that slid down his cheeks as he readied Rowan for the pyres, and set them alight.

His back tensed, ramrod straight as he heard sound approaching. The sword rested lightly in his hand as he turned around.

To say that Jon was relieved was an understatement. It was a horse. The biggest horse he'd ever laid eyes upon, but just a horse. A black stallion, he noted. The majestic animal walked right up to him and nudged his nose against Jon's chest. "Hello," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

The stallion snorted and lowered his head to nibble on some frozen leaves on the ground. "That can't be very good, can it?" Jon hummed. A thought occurred to him as he watched the horse wander over the numerous graves of the Winter King. "You were Rowan's steed," he said, mostly talking to himself. "Does that mean I ride with you now?" he wondered. The stallion let Jon lay the fur across this back. He had to stretch to get a grip on his mane. With some effort, he leap up on the broad back. He winched as he landed, soreness radiating from the small of his back.

His black cape flowed over the back of the horse, shielding the steed from the worst of the cold. His weapons laid comfortably against his body. Even the bow which he had always found such a bother to ride with.

"You wouldn't happen to know which way leads to the Wall, would you?" Jon felt a bit silly for talking to a horse, but at least the horse was more likely to give him a sensible answer than himself in the state he was in at the moment. Who else should he voice his thought to? In reality, it wouldn't be that different from talking to ghost, now could it?

To his surprise, the stallion set into a brisk, but strangely steady walk. The stallion did not stop for hours and Jon was aching all over. The wind was worsening and Jon pulled his hood up and buried his hands in the thick mane.

Jon could feel the whytes nearing as dusk approached. Rowan had said, had promised they would not touch him.

His attention was brought away from the walking corpses as he heard a familiar yupping and equally familiar shushing. With a gentle tug to the black mane, the stallion turned towards the sounds. Jon laughed as Ghost came bounding forward, barking.

The stallion on ly reacted by sniffing the furry pest that disrupted his journey. "Who is with you Ghost?" Jon asked as he slid down to the ground. Ghost just turned and trotted off. Jon followed, and noted that the stallion followed suit.

Behind a large rock and some bushed laid a an ample quivering figure. "Sam?" Jon called and ran over.

"Jon?" Sam glanced from between his arms. When he saw who stood in front of him, he whimpered. Jon wanted to think it was relief. "You're alive!" the round man scurried to his feet, "The whytes, they're everywhere! We can't get to the Wall! What are -"

Jon shushed him, "We will get to the Wall," he assured, "It's daylight still. Ride with me."

Jon had never been a man of many words, so Sam did not question him. However, his eyes threatened to bulge out of his scull when he saw the massive horse. "Do you expect me to get on that beast?"

"If you want to see south of the Wall again," Jon replied, stone-faced. As far as he knew, the whytes were strongest at night and they were no more than an hour from the Wall. They could make it if they hurried.

"Oh well," Sam simpered and tried to get onto the stallions back. After having received more that a few almost painful tugs to his mane it seemed to Jon that as if the stallion sighed in irritation before bending his knee. Jon bit back a snort, but got on as well.

By the time they reached the Wall, Jon could see thousands of them. Sam was clenching him so tightly it hurt his already weary and sore body. Ghost seemed much less chipper and was walking so close to the stallion, Jon feared she would be stepped on.

With a grunt of effort, Jon grabbed the wolf by the scruff of her neck and hauled her across his lap. Ghost whines at the rough treatment, but settled across her master's lap.

The entire walk to the Wall, though the masses of the white walkers was all lost in a blur to Jon. Adrenaline pumped though his veins and his body was tied in knots. Before he knew it, he had urged the stallion into a blistering gallop across the ice. Everything in his body screamed that these creatures needed to die.

They needed to burn, but he had no fire.

So he ran.

The whytes fell like cut down trees as the stallion ran them down. Their shrieks rang in Jon's ears as he held tightly onto Ghost, and Sam helt tightly onto him.

He could have cried with relief when he saw their fellow brothers with torches by the carriage that went up the wall. Sam nearly fell off in exhaustion . Ghost came to life as Jon patted her hide. "You go first," he shouted, "There isn't room for all of us." He took one of the torches and put it on the ground.

"But Snow, there is room for you!" Sam yelled .

"But not for my stallion. Go!" he ordered, "I've got some whytes to kill before you get that carriage back down here." He puled out the twin swords and touched them to the flames. He was not certain what inspired him to do it, but as the fire spread on the blades and they burned blue, comprehension dawned.

The fire called to him, as Rowan had called to him, though his panic-glazen eyes.

_I'll miss you_

_I'll always be with you_

With a furious roar, and energy he did not know he had, Jon started his slaughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

Above they watched as Jon Snow raged into the masses of white walkers that had gathered. They watched him slaughter them. Even as they reached the top, they couldn't take their eyes off of the rapidly spreading fire.

"He's probably dead already," one of the guys said. "If not by the whytes, then the fire."

"No," Sam protested. "We will not abandon him! Send the carriage back down!"

"It needs a rider," he crow said.

"I'll go," Sam said.

"No," Bryan stepped forward, "If he wants that damned stallion with him, there isn't room for you as well. Besides, you look ready to keel over."

Jon saw the cart heading back down the Wall and ran through the fire to get back. Only when he had set out the fire of his blades and closed the gate to the cart, did he realise the flames had not harmed him.

"Jon," Bryan supported his weight, "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I-" Jon struggled to catch his breath, "I don't think so." He wound his hand in the stallions mane and felt the nervous animal settle down at his touch.

When they reached the top, Jon carefully led the horse to the next carriage to take them down on the South side of the Wall.

"What are they all standing there for?" Jon murmured tiredly.

Bryn looked at him strangely, "You lived beyond the Wall for two weeks, mostly alone, and not only rode though an army of white walkers, you fought them. Alone. We could see the fire from the top of the Wall. Allow your brothers to reassure themselves that the Lord Commander's Golden Boy is still in one piece."

"Not his Golden Boy," Jon muttered.

Bryan rolled his eyes, but let it slide.

Stepping out of the carriage, Jon was immediately swept into his uncle Benjen's arms. Air was crushed from his lungs as the larger man trapped against his chest.

"Oh by the gods, boy!" he called out in relief, "If your father ever got word you died on my watch, he'd come back from the great beyond and kill me in my sleep!"

Jon smiled tiredly. He'd always been closer to their uncle Benjen than any of his siblings. Benjen had not given a white walkers arse that he was a bastard. He was family, and that was that. If anything, he'd favoured him whenever he'd had the chance. Someone had to, didn't they?

"Let's get some food you in boy. Sam is already in the dining hall. Poor lad couldn't bare another moment on his feet. After you've eaten the Lord Commander will have a bath prepared for the both of you."

"I'm not cold," Jon replied."

"But you sure must be filthy," Benjen replied. "Eat, wash, then sleep. The Lord Commander wants to see you in the morning."

Jon had been wrong. He was cold. Not freezing cold, but once he got hot food in his empty stomach, he felt how cold, exhausted and achy he was. The tub was made for several people.

They did not bathe often. Usually they just washed with some cloth and and basin. It wasn't like there were any maidens to impress. But when they did bathe, they bathed properly. Life on the Wall was tough. And a hot bath every few months was one of the few luxuries they could afford. It was not like they would ever run out of snow to melt and boil.

Sam dipped his fingers in the water but immediately pulled back his hand, "Ouch!" he hissed, "I think I've gotten so used to the cold, I can't take the heat anymore," he joked, hoping to lighted Jon's spirits. To his joy, the dark and broody younger man's lips quirked in amusement.

Jon dipped his fingers in and noted that the water was hot as fire. But as the fire, it did not hurt him.

Too tired to think much of it, he shrugged off his cape and undressed. He stiffened as he heard a gasp behind him.

"You said you weren't injured," Sam said, his tone accusing.

Jon glanced down his body and saw his skin littered with deep bruises and bite marks. His skin looked eve more cluttered by the inked markings on his skin. Beautiful as they were, combined with the bruises, they made him look far worse than he was.

He flushed darkly, knowing that even to virginal Samwell, the marking were only too telling. His hips bore the marks of a strong man's hands and his neck bore passion marks. Without a word he let his body sink into the glowing hot water.

As if he wasn't embarrassed enough, he couldn't hold back the moan that slipped form his lips as his body drew power from the heat of the water.

"Jon! The water is too hot!"

"The water is perfect," Jon replied, stretching out and resting his arms along the edge of the bath.

Sam sat on the bench as he slowly undressed. The heat of the water heated up the room.

"What happened out there?" Sam asked.

"Too much," Jon replied.

"Did you get married?" The words tumbled out of Sam's mouth as if he hadn't meant to say them. "I mean, men don't wear rings much, right?"

Jon didn't know what to say. Could he tell Sam? He didn't know if he truly was a Tygarion by blood. He supposed that now he was one by marriage, if Rowan had told the truth.

The thought that Rowan could have been lying to him seemed too ludicrous to be true. There had been honesty in every kiss, determination and domination in every thrust of his hips- Jon had to stop his train of thought right there. Even as his backside was swollen and tender- the long ride not making it any better, his body was excited just thinking about the events of the morning.

"I did marry," Jon said quietly.

"Oh," Sam said, very surprised. "I thought with our vows..." he cut himself off. "A wildling girl then?"

"No," Jon shook his head. He turned to look at his friend briefly, before he looked away. "The King of the White Walkers..."

Sam made no sound for a long time. "Did... he hurt,... you?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Jon shook his head, his eyes trained on the candle light. "No, he was... kind." His breath quivered as he exhaled. "When we..." he bit his lip and gathered his courage. "-laid together, he became human." Those few words took more courage than throwing himself into the mass of whytes below their wall. "And when we woke, he dressed me, and gave me my weapons -"

"And the ring."

"And the ring," Jon repeated, "and he.." his breath caught and a strange ache spread in his chest, "he told me to kill him."

The tension in the air was so tangible it could have been carved out with a spoon.

"So I did," Jon felt hot tears slip down his cheeks. "I had to cut him in fifteen pieces and burned him in fifteen fires. They burned for two days. I slept between his pyres and I -" Jon was horrified at the sob that escaped him.

Jon let Sam pull him into an awkward embrace as he cried all the stress and the grief catching up with him.

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AN this story had a bit of a clumsy start. i reposted the prologue three times! but now we're back on track! Any wishes for the identity of Jon's sweetheart?


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